


Wit's End

by space55



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, Journey, Love, Original Fiction, Original work - Freeform, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 20:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4934536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/space55/pseuds/space55
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Two hundred years after the Apocalypse, life still thrives. However, life is different - greater, yet lesser, smarter, yet without wit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

The sky was still a slight peach pale. It was a peaceful autumn morning, with the distant roar of God’s Falls.

“Beautiful.”

The boy had pale skin, with deep blonde hair. His eyes were a striking icy blue. Sitting on his self-proclaimed rock, a jagged outcropping near the Falls between the two cataracts, he looked up at the towering old oak. That oak, twisted and blown back over the falls, looked as if it had endured a torment from more than just its age.

The majestic oak released one if its large acorns in the wind.

“Ow!”

It hit him, square on the bridge of his nose. He stood up, yelling at something greater, something beyond the Falls. “I am the son of a priest!”

  


  



	2. The Metal

I grabbed the acorn and hurled it into the far falls. I knew that a good arm meant strength, and I could finally say my prayer.

“Great Anagra, ut placet mihi in sacerdotem ut die in diem hanc. Et relinquam mox.”

I lept off the rock. “Today is going to be a good day.”

The yews were a deep tropical green, and the passing bana trees were already beginning to bear yellow fruit, each having three limbs outstretched. The birdsong penetrated the air, with the nearby lizards croaking underneath, as if talking to each other. I whistled to them, and they replied back.

“Good morning, son,” my father said as I walked in.

“Morning, Father.” I started building the fire under the cooking pot for our breakfast. “Today is going to be a good day. I am going to put the Blue Fire log on,” I proclaimed taking a slight edge of responsibility which I love so much.

“Good boy,” Father replied with the slight edge of irresponsibility. It’s our inside joke. “Son, would you light the trail?”

Yes! I thought. I have never lit the trail! I carefully filled the stone trough, trying to make sure there was an even level of material throughout. Once I finished, I moved back to the beginning of the trough which was farthest from the fireplace. At the end there was a tiny split in the stone. I tried to light the dust at that tiny end by rubbing flint against the stone walls. It wouldn’t light. I decided to use the granite stone on the side of the fireplace. It would not light. I struck the granite very hard. Nothing. I then quickly rubbed the granite stone along the flint, it made smoke. A spark dropped.

“Uh-oh,” my father whispered. A spark dropped from the rocks. My father let out a sigh of relief. “You are strong, you used the granite. It takes much strength to make sparks with granite.”

Sparks flew and sizzled around the trough, and an excited fire scrambled toward the logs. The logs burst into flame with a sound like a small clap of thunder.

“Hayaay!” we shouted in unison.

“What are you two geniuses doing?” said a voice from behind me.

Turning around, I saw the figure of Karina - long and light blonde hair, with a shade of pale skin similar to mine. I met her striking green eyes.

“Just a little trail lighting,” I replied.

“Mind if I join in?” she asked.

“Sure!” I responded quickly. She didn’t seem to notice.

My father gestured towards the door.

“Karina, do you want to come with us to get some metal?” I asked.

“Yes!” she shouted. “I would love to.”

“Shall we?” Father offered.

We walked to a Place of the Dead. We live about a mile from the Dead Area - a collection of Places of the Dead, all full of metal.

My father walked in. Karina and I waited outside.

I looked over and smiled. Her painted eyes smiled back.

My father came out. I made a very slight nod. He held out the piece of metal.

I looked to Karina for encouragement. She looked nervous, but her eyes said otherwise.  

I put my finger out. I then retracted. I closed my eyes, and meticulously worked my finger to the metal, finally finding the smooth, delicate, and polished material. Suddenly, a burst of knowledge seemed to flood into me. I knew all that I had to know about being a priest.

“You are my son. You are going to be a wonderful priest.”

“Congratulations!”

I was speechless. My father took me home, and I sat in front of the fire for the rest of the day. I knew. My Journey is coming.


End file.
